


The Cobalt Archives

by SandSunSiliceousOoze



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Magnus Archives Fusion, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 17:55:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19873696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandSunSiliceousOoze/pseuds/SandSunSiliceousOoze
Summary: Beauregard is given a simple task: organize statements given to the Cobalt Soul regarding strange occurances.If only things stayed that simple.((The Critical Role/The Magnus Archives AU that absolutely no one asked for))





	The Cobalt Archives

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the single most self-indulgent fic a human being has ever written. This is probably going to go a lot of weird places and tags/characters/ships will be updated with every chapter.
> 
> Expect CR/TMA-typical violence and content.

The room is a disaster. The sunlight that filters in through the windows is hazy due to the layer of dirt and grime on the glass panes. The light catches hundreds of tiny dust motes floating through the still, musty air, and just the sight of them makes Beauregard want to sneeze. There's a thick layer of dust and spiderwebs coating just about every flat surface, and there are a _lot_ of flat surfaces in this room. One wall is covered entirety in filing cabinets, another is covered in bookshelves, and a large wooden desk sits in the middle of the room. Then there are the dozens of boxes covering the floor, stacked on the desk and each other, and making the already small space feel even smaller. 

Beau turns back towards the door, the only way in or out of this room.

"Dairon, am I seriously supposed to fucking clean this shit up? I'm pretty sure this is like, a biohazard situation."

The elf standing in the hallway just crosses their arms and frowns. "This is important work, Beauregard. I know you only see a messy office and a heavy workload, but I promise you, getting these statements organized is a thousand times more beneficial than any of the busywork I could have you doing in the library."

"So it _was_ busywork." Beau crosses her own arms and scowls. "Where am I even supposed to start with this mess? Is there _any_ system here?"

"I don't know."

"To which question?"

"Both." Dairon straightens up just a bit more, obviously trying to lord their height over Beau, and in response she just hunches down further. "Beauregard, you are a part of the Cobalt Soul. And that means that you are responsible for helping to keep it organized and _usable_. What use is knowledge if no-one can access it?"

"This isn't even _knowledge_ though, you said it's statements. Aren't statements just what we make crazy people give when they come in yelling about some weird shit they saw?"

"Partially," Dairon says, "but as you work through these, I think you'll be surprised by how many statements are more than simply 'weird shit'. This task is not optional. You do not get to shirk your duties because you think it will be boring. I don't _want_ to have babysit you to make sure you do the bare minimum of what's expected of you but if that's what it comes down to, so be it. So." They stare at Beau, face unmoving. "Do you need me to sit here and hold your hand, or are you a big enough girl that I can leave you to your own devices?"

Beau feels herself flushing a deep, angry pink. She does her best to scowl even harder at Dairon, but they give no response. They just stare at her with that damned impassive face.

"Fine." Beau narrows her eyes, a last-ditch attempt at intimidation or something like it. "Yes, I'll do it, no, I don't need your fuckin' help or supervision or whatever-"

"Excellent," Dairon says. "Exactly the answer I was hoping for. Their face softens, just the tiniest bit. "This will be good for you, Beauregard. It will be good for all of us."

Beau nods, and turns back to the room. She's still mad and she doesn't want to give Dairon the satisfaction of making eye contact.

"Great," she says, "Sounds fuckin' great."

"Good luck," is all Dairon says before Beau hears the fading click-click-click of their heels on the tile floor of the hallway. And then they're gone, leaving Beau trapped and alone in this creepy, disgusting room full of paranoid ramblings. Great. Awesome. This is exactly what she had in mind for her life. Working at some stupid archive for some stupid hot elf while living in some stupid apartment with some stupid roommate-

Okay, she feels bad for calling Jester stupid. She's not stupid, she's really sweet and funny and cute and Beau _doesn't_ have a crush on her, okay, she just knows how to appreciate a hot girl when she sees one and lives with one and thinks about kissing one on a regular basis and-

She's getting distracted. Right now she's stuck with this shit job so as much as she doesn't want to, she should probably try to work on it. At least she'll be done faster if she does. 

She starts by actually walking into the room. She's been hovering by the doorway, not wanting to get too far in lest she get roped into working here, which, too late for that, huh? Whatever. 

The floor is mostly covered by a large, thick rug, but she can see the wooden planks underneath, in the places along the wall where the rug doesn't quite reach. She steps over an open box, peeking in only to see stacks and stacks of files. Great. More stuff to sort. The more see looks around, the more files she sees. They're stacked on the desk and the bookshelf and in and on boxes, and suddenly Beauregard feels deeply overwhelmed. This is way too much for a single person, why would Dairon _do_ this to her, what the fuck is she being _punished_ for?

Well. What in _particular_ is she being punished for might be a better question. She can't think of anything she's done that's worse than usual. Certainly nothing that merits being locked in some dirty, shitty little closet of a room and being forced to sort through roughly a million files.

Well. Nothing recently.

She sighs, and her mouth already feels dry with dust. She lets herself just scan the room, looking for anything that looks interesting but also just killing time before she's out of excuses as to why she hasn't started yet. Her eyes land on a stack of files near the window, resting precariously on the corner on a box. She makes her way over, and something in her wants her to grab the third folder down, and before she can think too much into it, she lifts the top two files and pulls it out. It looks relatively recent, paper not especially yellow or torn. There's no writing on the outside of the folder, and as she opens it, she can see that there are only a few sheets of paper in it. The writing on the first few papers is small, messy cursive, and seems to be in Common. Beau angles her body so the light from the window illuminates the page better, and, lifting it to her face, she starts to read.

_"Statement given 14th Brussendar, 829 P.D., by Damion Kurz._

_"I assume I'm supposed to just write my story here. You all gave me a quill and paper and closed the door, so I'm guessing I won't actually be talking to anyone in person. Maybe that's for the best. I don't know if I could handle another person looking at me like I'm a fool who still believes in fairy tales. So many impossible things happen in this world every single day, and yet people think I've lost my mind. Well, I haven't. At least, I don't think I have. Maybe I lost it a long time ago and that's why I'm here. They say only the crazies ever actually come here to speak with you. And here I am, rambling at myself on paper as I sit alone in a room. What does that say about me, I wonder?_

_"I'm not here to wax poetic about the state of my life or my potentially waning sanity though, am I? No, I'm here because something impossible happened to me and I haven't been able to sleep ever since. I've been paranoid and on edge for a week straight and it's exhausting, but I know deep down in the very core of my being that if I lose vigilance for even a second, they'll find me. And they will kill me. I saw something I wasn't meant to, and I already know what my mistake will cost me. I'd pay up if I didn't need my head attached to my neck so bad._

_"That's the thing, isn't it? I'm nobody, not really. I have some friends and neighbors, some repeat customers, but I'm not some well-connected high-up lord or duke or what have you. I'm just a farmer and a produce salesman. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And isn't that how it always goes?_

_"Sorry, I'm rambling. I just want you to understand where I'm coming from. I'm nobody special. I made a mistake, looked into an alley I wasn't meant to, and now I think I'm going to die._

_"You're all well-learned folks, you have a library and all that, so I'm sure you've heard of Scourgers. The subjects of so many ghost stories. The rumored royal assassins who don't legally exist, the people who clean up the King's messes when the messes are people-shaped. They're a rumor meant to scare away any would-be challengers to the throne, and I always thought that for people who didn't exist, they did a pretty good job. Like having a dog that barks loud but would never actually bite. It'll fool most people into staying away. It's clever, I have to give them that._

_"Well. Like I said, I sell produce. So a week or so ago, it was real hot out. I mean real hot. And I had stayed up late the night before and got up early that morning to pack up everything for the market. So I was already tired and the heat just made me even more so. Long story short, I fell asleep at my stand for just a little bit, just a tiny nap, except when I woke up it was pitch black. I had slept the entire day. I was irritated and groggy and that isn't a pretty combination for anyone. I started looking over my stock, making sure nobody stole anything while I was out, but it looked fine. Normal. That was a relief._

_"Then I started wondering why none of the other market people had woken me up. I didn't ask them to, mind you, but I feel like someone would have. Especially if they were packing up to leave and saw I was still there. But they didn't, so I was loading up my cart in the dark, just trying to get home as soon as possible. I got it loaded fine, didn’t even see anybody out so it must’ve been pretty late at night. I was fine until I went to get my horse from the stables. I’m at the market nearly every day so I know my way around the place. I didn’t have any trouble getting to the stables even thought it was so dark, but while I was tacking up my horse, I heard something. Sounded like crying coming from nearby outside. I’m not a brave man, mind you, but I was still half-asleep and I thought maybe there was just some drunk who’d fallen down and I could get a good deed in. Stupid._

_“I went outside and listened for the crying, and started to follow the noise. It sounded like it was coming from one of the alleyways around the stables. I was trying to be quiet but I don’t know why. Maybe just because it was dark and I didn’t want to wake anybody up. Not that a single person walking around would’ve caused a racket but who knows. Brains are funny like that. So I snuck closer to the alley I thought the noise was coming from and looked down it, still trying to stay out of view. It was dark, but I could just make out a shape on the ground. There was a noise like somebody snapping their fingers and the crying just… stopped. Like it was silenced or something. There’s probably spells for that, I don’t really know about that stuff. I'm guessing it was magic from the way it was so sudden. But there was this shape on the ground and as I looked longer, I thought I saw two more shapes standing over it. It was real hard to see, but I think one of them was much shorter than the other._

_“I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my chest started to hurt, so I tried to take a few breaths as quietly as possible just so I wouldn’t pass out. That’s when I heard the voices. They were talking real low and they both had weird accents, and half of what they said sounded like a different language. Couldn’t tell you which one, though. I’m not that smart._

_“They were being quiet so I only made out a few things they said. I heard one say, ‘-disgusting traitor, disgrace to your family and the Empire-’ and the other said something about ‘no use for you’. That’s when one of the moons came out from behind the clouds, just enough for me to see when the smaller shape drew their dagger across the throat of the person on the ground. The blood was almost pretty in the moonlight as it spurted and dripped. Kind of ethereal. I don’t think I screamed, but I must’ve made some kind of noise because they both looked at me immediately. They were still in the shadows so I couldn’t see any real facial details, but I guess the moonlight was just right to light up their eyes. They were both focused on me, and they looked like the kind of things you tell kids ghost stories about. Not quite human and scary as all fuck._

_“I ran. I’m not ashamed to say it. I think any reasonable person would’ve run. I didn’t hear them chasing after me, but I couldn’t hear much over my pounding heart and my wheezing. I got my horse hitched to the cart, fast as I could, and I got the hell out of there. That was a week ago, and I haven’t been back to the market since. Haven’t even really left my house except to buy food I don’t have and to come here, I guess. I feel like they’re coming for me. I feel like they’re going to kill me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t think you all can help me. I don’t know if you even would. I’m just scared and I needed to tell somebody who wouldn’t turn me away. I didn’t dream it, I didn’t hallucinate it, it happened. And I don’t know what to do.”_

As she reaches the end of the statement, Beau has to shake her head to clear her mind. Something about this person’s writing had sucked her in, like she was listening to him talk. Like he had been there in the room with her, telling his story.

“Shit,” she says to herself. 

There are two more pieces of paper in the file, and they look like newspaper clippings. The first is a short article about a female half-elf found dead in a back alley with her throat slit. The article warns people to be careful, to not walk alone at night and to not be a hero if someone tries to mug them. There’s no date on the paper, but if Beau had to guess, she’d say it was probably published sometime in early Brussendar. 

The second clipping is an obituary for a Damion Kurz. It’s short and bland, seemingly written by an acquaintance rather than a friend or family member, just talking about what he did, how he’ll be missed, all the typical shit people say when other people die. There _is_ a date on this one, however. Damion Kurz died on the 17th of Brussendar, 829 P.D. Three days after the statement was given. Cause of death isn’t listed, but Beauregard thinks she might be able to dig that information up. She wonders if they slit his throat too, or if they’d gotten more creative. 

She shakes her head again, harder this time. What is she _talking_ about? This dude wasn’t murdered by crazy mysterious ghost assassins. He probably fell down the stairs or ate some bad chicken or died in one of the thousands of other mundane ways people die. There’s no reason for her to believe his story- two newspaper clippings don’t prove anything other than the fact that sometimes random people die at times that might be close to one another. Beau puts the papers back in the file and lays the file on one of the few empty spots on the desk. She sighs, and stares at the original pile it came from. 

“Shit,” she says again, and bites her lip. Then she grabs her quill and a spare piece of paper and writes down _14th Brussendar 829 P.D._ and _Damion Kurz_ on it before sticking it to the outside of the file with a bit of gum. Maybe she can organize these by date, or by name. Those seem like reasonable things to organize by. After a pause, she writes down, _”””Scourgers””” ???_ underneath the name and nods to herself. This is going to suck, but it might just work. She turns back to the pile the first file came from, and after a second of deliberation, grabs one of the ones near the bottom of the stack. 

Time to get to work.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this please let me know!


End file.
